Chapter 67 Luca

Chapter 67 Luca
The worry in my chest won’t stop. It feels like a weight has been put there and won’t ease even a little. 

I still don’t understand how people could target my sweet Ivy Vine. She might be wild just like ivy can grow but underneath all of that is the sweet innocent girl I fell in love with.

The estate is quiet in that way that never truly means peace—just vigilance closing its eyes for a moment, never fully asleep.

I wait until the corridors settle, until the guards rotate and the night deepens into its truest hush. Then I move.

I don’t announce myself. I never do. 

I stop outside her door and listen.
Soft movement.
The whisper of a page turning.
A breath that isn’t asleep.

Awake.
Good.

I knock twice, then once—our signal since we were kids.
Sometimes her balcony can be a pain to get on. 

The door opens almost immediately.

Ivy looks up at me, and the way her eyes light hits straight through my chest. Dark brown and unguarded, they pull me in before I even step fully inside. Her long dark brown wavy hair spilling over her shoulders in a dark waterfall, framing skin so fair it seems to glow in the lamplight. She’s black silk pajamas. 

There’s excitement written plainly across her face—real, open, almost brave.

“You came,” she whispers, like saying it out loud makes it more certain.

“Always,” I murmur. My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to. “I came to check on you.”

I step inside and close the door behind me with careful, instinctive quiet. The latch clicks softly, sealing us away from the rest of the sleeping estate.

Her room smells faintly of herbs—comforting, familiar, her. The lamp by the bed casts a warm glow over everything: the scattered notes on her desk, the half-finished diagrams, the pressed leaves tucked between pages like secrets she refuses to forget. Even in the quiet, Ivy’s mind leaves evidence everywhere.

She’s been thinking.
She doesn’t waste time pretending otherwise.

“We need to talk,” she says, already moving toward the bed and sitting down. “Like… actually talk. I meant to earlier while we were out, but then everything happened.”

I nod and sit beside her, careful to keep my voice low, my body angled toward hers. I can feel the heat of her presence even before our shoulders nearly brush. “I figured that was your plan when you demanded William I go with you.”

For a moment, neither of us speaks.

The silence isn’t awkward. It’s charged—heavy with everything we’ve both been circling, carefully avoiding until there was nowhere left to hide it. My hands rest on my knees, still, controlled, but my pulse is not. I can’t remember the last time I wanted something so badly and feared it at the same time.

Finally, Ivy turns to face me fully.

“William warned you,” she says softly.

It’s not a question. There’s no point lying.

“Yes,” I answer.

Her brows knit together. “About me.”

“Yes.”

She studies my face, searching for deflection, hesitation—anything she can push against. I don’t give her any of it. I don’t look away, even when it feels like the air between us might spark.

“Ivy,” I say quietly, “before you say anything else—this isn’t something I planned. It just… happened.”

Her breath catches.

“How long?” she asks.

I hesitate, then choose honesty because she deserves nothing less. “Long enough that pretending otherwise stopped being useful.”

She looks down at her hands, then lets out a soft laugh. “I thought I imagined it.”

I shake my head once. “You didn’t.”

She looks up again, eyes bright now. “I needed to know,” she says. “Because I trust you. I’m being targeted and the last thing I want is confusion between us.”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, forcing my voice to stay calm. “I would never use what’s happening to cross a line.”

“I know,” she says immediately. “That’s why I’m not scared of this.”

That lands harder than any warning William ever gave me.

Am I afraid of William?
Yes.

Would I risk my own life for the woman sitting beside me right now?
Without hesitation.

“I care about you,” I admit, my voice low but steady. “More than I should. But I won’t make that your burden. Not now. Not ever.”

She reaches out then—slowly, deliberately—fingers wrapping around my sleeve. The touch is firm, grounding, real. 

“I don’t see it as a burden,” she says.

I look at her then. 

The curve of her mouth when she’s trying not to smile. The stubborn set of her chin. The softness in her expression that she doesn’t give freely to most people. 

“You’re allowed to feel things,” she continues softly. “So am I. What matters is what we do with them.”

My chest tightens. “And what do you want to do?”

She considers it, eyes thoughtful. “Right now? I want honesty. Teamwork. And no secrets between us.”

I nod once. “You have that.”

She smiles—excited, relieved, just a little nervous—as if she’s stepping onto thin ice and trusting it will hold. “Good. Because I didn’t ask you here just to confirm what I already suspected.”

I arch a brow, a faint attempt at humor to keep myself steady. “Of course you didn’t.”

“I have plans,” she says quietly. “And I need you fully with me. Not half-holding back because you’re afraid of what you feel.”

I meet her gaze, resolve settling deep in my bones like an oath. “Then here’s the truth.”

I lean closer, keeping my voice barely above a breath. Close enough that my world narrows to her eyes and the space between our mouths.

“I care about you,” I whisper. “Deeply. But I will follow your lead.”

Her smile softens—warm, genuine, unmistakably hers. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

I stand a few minutes later, knowing I shouldn’t stay longer. Wanting to stay anyway. As I turn to leave, she stops me.

“Luca?”

“Yes?” I answer, my hand already on the door, as if distance will save me.

“Thank you for telling me,” she says. “For not running.”

I nod once. “I would never run from you.”

And then, just as my fingers curl around the handle, her voice slips into the quiet behind me—soft and certain, like a promise she’s already decided to keep.

“Once all of this is over… we’ll go on a proper date.”

My chest pounds so hard it’s almost painful.

I turn my head slightly, just enough to see her again—hair spilling dark over her shoulders, eyes shining, expression daring and hopeful all at once.

I never thought she’d be this willing. This open.

But I will take any future she offers me. 

Anyone threatening her—anyone forcing us into waiting and shadows—will be dealt with. 

When I slip back into the corridor, the night feels different. Heavier. Clearer.

They’re hunting Ivy.
But now there’s something else in play.

Not secrets.
Not denial.
Truth.

And I’ll protect her—with my life if I must.
But from now on?

I’ll also protect what’s growing between us—by making sure it never becomes a weapon in anyone else’s hands.